In the beginning was the word and the word was without a machete or sword/
But when we read still slices our hearts through our cords like a convict on his knees calling on his lord/
Whereas, happiness is not given as a constant in the mathematical equation of existence/
Whereas, tears is not inversely proportional to the square root of the ratio between happiness and sadness…/
Also given that, every YES does not necessarily define a new beginning of life and every NO received does not mark the end of time. . ./
There is a time flowers wither but then blossom again…
A time when barren earth is given life by the open heavens in form of rain/
A time of pain for a mother birthing a hero, a heroine, a star or a judge who would put mankind in happiness jail/
A time when hearts feel weak, thoughts go astray but soon the soul is met by the dusty boot bearded philosopher to put it in God’s way…/
Lets get it straight
I am no preacher, no sheikh or a saint
But have lived long enough to know that life is spent in different lanes/
Long enough to know even identical twins have unidentical desires
Long enough to know that as long as there is life, there is hope. . .
Ocean tides could be high but not higher than our belief that with time, it would be low
So are our fears, our heart breaks
Our emptiness and our voids
The pains we find and the joy we lost
Once again, in the beginning was the word
And in the end would be would be words
Every downfall is a chance to get up and stand up tall
There are no dead ends
Only new beginnings